


Sow Thy Oats

by japansace



Series: My Love, We Deserve the Softest Eternity [11]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: + magic, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Elves, Fluff, Intersex Elves, King Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Pregnancy Kink, Queen Yuuri Katsuki, Top Victor Nikiforov, Vaginal Fingering, they're so in love it's almost obscene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23031004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japansace/pseuds/japansace
Summary: “You’re going to look so beautiful, round with them.”
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: My Love, We Deserve the Softest Eternity [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133426
Comments: 41
Kudos: 382





	Sow Thy Oats

**Author's Note:**

> If you thought this wasn’t gonna eventually result in elf porn, you’ve vastly underestimated me.
> 
> Ages:  
> Victor: 4779  
> Yuuri: 4739

The spray of water is frigid cold on Yuuri’s shoulders.

He has his hands splayed in a teardrop formation: the fingers steepled, the thumbs meeting down below. It’s the traditional pose to take when praying to the goddess—and right now, Yuuri needs all the goodwill he can get.

_You don’t have to do this, you know._

Yuuri’s lips quirk up, hearing Victor’s thoughts as though they were his own. He shakes his head, trying to remove his bangs from where they lay over his eyes, but it’s a futile effort under the waterfall. _It’s not as though I can get sick, Vitya,_ he retorts back.

Yuuri swears he can almost feel the warmth of Victor’s chest, expanding with a chuckle. _Fair enough._

He lasts a few more moments until he finally grows tired of the practice, wading through the water back up the bank, taking Victor’s hand when he reaches out to him.

Victor has Yuuri sit and runs a towel through his hair, soft at the top, squeezing at the ends. The repetitive motion poses the very real threat of putting Yuuri to sleep, but then Victor bends at the waist to whisper in Yuuri’s ear, “I don’t think we’ll need to enlist the goddess’s help anyway. My work should be sufficient enough.”

Yuuri reddens at this, reaching behind himself to blindly push at Victor’s chin. “Go away, you. _Awful._ ” Yuuri curls in on himself, wrapping arms around his waist. “Perhaps I’ll just make a baby on my own.”

“Mm, I’d like to see you try.” And Victor sounds truly genuine, like he’d attentively watch if given the opportunity.

It has Yuuri flushing anew.

The process of procreation for them is fairly standard, as far as mammals go. But for elves, it involves an extra step: If the partner elves do not possess parts compatible for reproduction, one of the elves must undergo a bodily change, which can be made at any time through sheer force of will. Once wanted, the appropriate parts will begin to develop: a process that takes but a moon cycle.

For prospective elven parents, who carries the child is usually an inconsequential choice; but for Yuuri and Victor, it was never a choice to begin with. Woodland needed its king in peak condition, always. The queen could afford to lay low, for a time, and thus, the decision was already made.

But Yuuri doesn’t mind it. As he holds a hand to his abdomen, he feels a phantom flutter: potential, his body rearranging itself, growing, evolving. He thinks of them moving, of them getting hiccups in there, of Victor holding his hand to the skin, feeling them from the outside in.

He hopes they have Victor’s eyes.

And his smile.

And—

“Aaaaaaaah…”

Yuuri turns over in bed, thrusting fingers between his thighs. It’s not a good sensation he’s experiencing; it’s a burning, rolling pain. One that the pops and hisses like fire consuming a log.

 _Vitya._

He’s right next to Yuuri, but he couldn’t care less. Moving his lips was too much effort, then.

“Hm?” Victor rouses from sleep, coming to in slow blinks. “What is it, my love?”

“Hurts,” Yuuri says, and that has Victor bolting upright, grappling for a spark stone to bring light to the room.

“’Hurts’?” Victor feels the need to confirm, the sensation being so unusual for them.

“Yes, yes.” Yuuri turns his head into the sheets, riding out a wave. “They… They said it would a little, but—”

“What can I do?” Victor takes him by the shoulders, touch exceedingly gentle.

“No, not there,” Yuuri says, and he doesn’t elaborate—only takes Victor’s hands from where they are and shoves them underneath his nightshirt.

“Yuu—?”

“Your _talent_ , Victor; I _need_ it.”

“Oh… _Oh_.”

With a flash of bright white coloring his eyes, Victor’s fingers turn to ice between Yuuri’s legs, and the latter melts into the mattress with a throttled moan.

“I love you.”  
  
“I love you too, darling.”  
  
“No, I mean, I love _you_ , specifically. You and your magic hands. Thank the goddess I fell in love with an ice talent.”

Victor huffs a laugh under his breath, resting his head again on the pillow but keeping his fingers right where they are. “If you think my hands are great now, just wait until your change is through. You’re going to _love_ them then.”

Yuuri pinkens, scooching a tad closer to peck Victor on the nose. “You make me wish we could get started now.”  
  
Victor’s fingers twitch, from where he has them. “Ah… don’t tempt me, starlight.”

Yuuri laughs, moving to kiss Victor properly. “Soon, then.”

“Yes,” Victor says, hiding his expression against Yuuri’s neck to avoid looking him in the eye, lest he lose his resolve. “Soon enough, I should say.”

* * *

Victor’s mind has been rather quiet as of late.

He can’t help but notice, what with how Yuuri’s input has been a constant echo to his own thoughts for many a millennia.

But now, he’s quiet. Now, he’s keeping to himself.

The change is not a welcome one.

“Yuuri?”

Just his name given breath feels too obtrusive for the environment: Yuuri sits curled up before the hearth, with his hands set upon his lap. Warm light pours across the soft curve of one of his cheeks, a shadow chasing across the skin when he turns to assess Victor. “Yes, Vitya?”

Victor feels unsure, like he hasn’t felt in countless mortal lifetimes. His tone wavers, the distinction hardly perceptible but there, as he comes before Yuuri. “Are you… all right?”

Yuuri blinks, with earth-brown eyes. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re not…” _With me_ , he doesn’t say. He hopes Yuuri reads it from him, directly, but his love merely shifts in place, no hint of recognition overtaking his features. Victor kneels to the floor at this, taking one of Yuuri’s hands in his own. “You have been keeping things to yourself,” he says, and his words strike a chord based on the way Yuuri turns his countenance from him, biting into his lower lip. “To be honest, darling, I’ve been a bit lonely.”

“Oh, _Vitya_.” Yuuri leans forward, hiding his face against Victor’s shoulder. He takes a fistful of Victor’s dress, in both hands. “I… I never wanted you to be hurt by it, but I—I—”

“Take your time,” Victor says, soft. He draws fingers against the back of Yuuri’s hair, with the most reverent of touches. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you—you _might be_ —”  
  
“Why would I?”

“Because I won’t be _me!_ ”

Yuuri draws back, hands still embedded deep into the fabric of Victor’s cloak. “I—I won’t be _the same_. To—to have our child, my body will change, and what if—what if you _hate it_?”

_Ah, so that’s it._

“Darling, look at me.” Victor directs Yuuri’s chin up, with the tip of his fingers. “Into my eyes. Yes, there you go. Yuuri, I want you to listen to me: I’ve known you for three-thousand seven hundred seventy-nine years—"

“Vitya—”

“No, beloved, let me finish. We’ve been married—the first time around—for three thousand seven hundred sixty-nine of those years. Married the second time for three thousand six hundred seventy-nine of _those_.” He takes Yuuri’s hand, pressing it into his chest: just above the heart where it beats steadily. “And even before either of us walked this earth, I’m convinced we were two halves of a greater whole, bound for an eternity that transcends the concept of time.”

“Vitya…”

“I’ve shorn my hair for you, and you, in turn, for me. We’ve fought adversaries and made allies and maintained a kingdom—together, as one—all this time. And you truly think after all this, after all we’ve come to know about each other, that I would ever leave you, simply because your appearance alters the slightest bit?”

“It won’t be… _slight_ …”

“You’re right.” Victor kisses the crux of the other’s palm, up his wrist, to his forearm. “It will be a change, but it will still be _you_. Yuuri is Yuuri, no matter what. And I will come to learn about these new parts of you, and I’ll come to love them too, just as I love the rest of you.”

“You…” Yuuri swallows, with monumental effort. “You promise?”

Victor smiles, reaches forward for the strap of Yuuri’s betrothal necklace, drawing it out from underneath his garments. “I swear on this very jewel, on my everlasting vow to you.” He kisses at the garnet, tucked in its gold filigree.

“Oh, Vitya…”

It’s a bit counter-intuitive, Yuuri thinks, to make love now, when nothing will come of it. But as he slots himself into Victor’s arms—a key into a lock, a nest upon a branch, the dusting of ice that comes before a snowfall—Yuuri cannot find it within himself to regret it even the tiniest bit.

* * *

They’re in the bath when Yuuri feels it: the final shift within himself, a flower coming into bloom. He gasps; and Victor snakes an arm around his waist, feeling just above his stomach like he _knows._ “Is it…?”

Yuuri simply leans back in his husband’s arms, sloshing the water gently around them. “Touch me and find out.”

Victor’s considering hum is somehow wolfish. He traces fingerpads down Yuuri’s abdomen, featherlight, to tease him around the inner thighs before he at last reaches for Yuuri’s center—

—and finds him molten lava there to the core.

Victor groans, into the back of Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri chuckles, lifting a wetted hand behind himself to drag it through Victor’s fringe. “Shall I take that to mean you’re pleased?”

Victor removes his hand to wrap both arms around Yuuri’s middle, holding him tight. “You know I am.”

“Mm.” Yuuri’s eyes glint red, from where his head is perched between Victor’s neck and shoulder. “I know. But I like to hear you say it aloud too.”

The water is suddenly displaced, a roar like that of a rushing river meeting Yuuri’s ears as he’s lifted, carried from the bath. “Vitya!” he complains, but he’s laughing all the while, giggling like they’re eight hundred again, chasing each other through the springs of Sealand.

He’s dropped on the bed, with an overexaggerated bounce.

“Ah,” Yuuri laments, “our blankets will be soaked…”

“They were going to be regardless,” Victor says, and that’s all the warning Yuuri gets before his legs are thrust apart and Victor’s tongue is upon him.

Yuuri _shrieks_.

It’s a foreign feeling, a rarity for a being so old. He’s had Victor’s mouth on him in possibly every other place imaginable, but this is uncharted territory: He’s _new_ down there, soft and dewy like freshly sprung petals. Victor peels back the first layer of him, to lap at his bud and center, and it’s like being _reborn_ , like giving himself over to Victor for the first time all over again.

Yuuri thinks he could get drunk on this: just the feeling of him.

Victor stops, when he notes the tremble in Yuuri’s legs. “Have I already riled you up so much, my darling?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuuri respires, gripping at the sheets. “Won’t you do it some more?”

“Hm.” Victor’s mouth curls, in a way that Yuuri very much recognizes. “Have patience. I wish to savor you.” Then he lowers his head again, to give Yuuri a firm sup.

It has Yuuri seeing stars.

Victor places a hand to Yuuri’s lower belly, pinning him in place just as he begins to arch. Then fingers join in the fray, straying low to delve into the heat of him, while Victor continues to lave at his bud. The dual sensations threaten to overwhelm Yuuri; he thrashes, an involuntary thing, but Victor has him soundly caught. He’s the prey to Victor’s predator, the hare ensnared between the fox’s jaws.

And he’ll gladly be devoured.

 _Need you_. Yuuri’s eyes glow lowly, beneath heavy lids. He could easily tell Victor with his words, but Yuuri knows well how much Victor loves to hear it directly from him, to let the emotions spill from him like a cup overflowed.

The thought has Victor breaching for air, running teeth along his lower lip.

He goes to delve in—then pauses, running a hand again softly above Yuuri’s stomach.

“You’re going to look so beautiful, round with them.”

Tears inexplicably prick at the corners of Yuuri’s eyes.

“Like the goddess herself. I’m going to _spoil you_ , my sun. Kiss at your tummy and the arches of your feet. Serve you all the sweetest treats and sing to you to sleep.”

Yuuri swallows down, on a sob. “You do all that already.”

“Then I’ll do it _twice_ as much. For you and the little one.” Victor lowers himself to Yuuri’s belly, to drag his nose across the skin. “I’ll even carry you around all nine months, if you want. Whatever you want, it will be done.”

Yuuri reaches around with his leg to Victor’s back, dragging the ball of his foot down the other’s spine. “Perhaps you should put them in there first, then, if you’re so eager.”

Victor’s answering groan is nothing if not euphoric.

He’s gripped around the thighs, speared on Victor’s length all in one forward motion. Yuuri makes a noise—he thinks—but it may have been wholly internal, based on how Victor smirks down at him like a child being let in on a secret.

It always comes to this: to Yuuri not knowing where their familiarity with each other ends and where his talent begins. It simply dissolves into a muddle of feeling, a cacophony of pleasure.

And by that point, neither of them care much to parse out the details.

 _More,_ Yuuri tells him. _You wanted me round, didn’t you?_

 _Goddess._ Victor is always more honest, in his own head. Yuuri can already feel him unraveling at the seams.

Just as well, Yuuri thinks.

He’s rocked into, tumbled upon like a beach taking the brunt of a sea. It’s a soothing sensation, though the method is wholly new: the “welcome home” after a long journey.

Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor and _melts_.

There’s a small gasp: just a wisp of a breath against Yuuri’s neck, as though Victor can’t believe his fortune. He draws his head out from Yuuri’s grasp to capture him by the lips, pouring himself fully into Yuuri, all silk and molten silver in the arms of his beloved.

“Love you,” he says, against Yuuri’s mouth. He punctuates his words with another roll of the hips. “Love you more all the time, every day.”

“Vitya…” Yuuri’s eyes are shiny, flickering rose-red on every other blink. _Love you. Love you with everything I am, with everything we are._

Victor inhales a breath, inhales _Yuuri_ with how close they are. The air is shared; the body is liquid. Yuuri is lush as spun velvet within. Victor could never move again and be content.

And yet—

 _Only ever loved you. Only ever_ will _love you._

Oh, the _things_ that does to Victor.

“ _Mine_.” Victor hardly even registers himself saying it—only feels the words, as they’re punched from his lungs. “My Yuuri, _my darling star_ —”

“Yes, yours,” Yuuri answers, dutifully. He moves with Victor now: follows his lead, follows where he goes.

“Only I see you like this, only I _feel_ you this way.” He’s had an eternity of sweetness already, and yet he craves an eternity more.

“Yes, _yes_ —” Yuuri bows his head back, eyes falling closed. _Touch me—touch me, please—_

Victor’s hand finds his clit again, even before he’s asked.

 _Oh—_ Sparks ignite in his lower belly, warming him all the way down to the core. The dual sensations of his husband’s fingers and cock, pleasuring him from both the inside and out, have him keening, writhing, dragging nails down Victor’s forearms, leaving white streaks in their wake that will undoubtably flush to red.

And then, on the downward motion of a tight circle—

_Ah—!_

He spills like a river come spring: a feeling both familiar and alien. It’s a release like he’s known before but wet as rapids, warm like being buried in a hundred furs. And he’s clenching all the while, pulsing as though begging with his whole being for his lover to follow.

And well, Victor always was one to please.

He comes, too, with force behind it, riding a wave all of his own. He holds Yuuri close throughout by the waist, as though he’s afraid he might stray and feels the need to stake a claim. Needn’t he worry, Yuuri thinks. He’s already looking forward to the bruises—the little blue-purple quasars—that Victor will kiss later, even though they fade within minutes from the tireless effort of their elven blood, flowing through their veins round and round ad infinitum.

Yuuri goes to stretch, has his wrists pinned to the bed for his efforts. “Stay,” Victor says. Yuuri hardly ever hears him so firm, and it has a pleasant chill running down his spine, from the implications of it.

“Yes,” Yuuri whispers, in reply, and Victor collapses his weight even further, to nuzzle into the softness of Yuuri’s neck.

They stay like that for a long time, before they attempt anything again.

* * *

They’re in the bath once more when Yuuri feels it: the final shift within himself, a seed sprouting from within. Victor’s arms tighten from around him—but more gently than ever before. “Is it…?”

They had suspected already, with how the dogs had become clingier, less inclined to stray from Yuuri’s side. His sense of taste had already shifted; and as well he felt persuaded more than ever to remain within the confines of their bed, make a nest there of a thousand pillows and sleep the day away.

But now they could hear it, pick it up with the aid of their superior elven ears: a heartbeat, fast and true and oh-so very little.

“Can you hear it?” Yuuri says instead.

Victor’s fingers find the source, pressing delicately against the beating as though to embrace them. “Yes, I can hear it.”

And Yuuri just leans back further into his husband, with a contented sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> Every time I go out to write some fun, sexy Victuuri smut, they end up blubbering halfway through about how much they love each other. 
> 
> WHY ARE YOU TWO LIKE THIS?


End file.
